Picnic
by inkstainedfingers97
Summary: "Hey, Bones, do you like picnics?"


Spoilers: Don't remember the name of the episode, but the one where Booth is on the boat with the ghost.

Rating: T

xxx

Virginia, Booth reflected, was really quite beautiful in the fall. Bright blue sky, yellow leaves, and the open road. Well, the road was a little windy, but it was still damn beautiful. A nice day for a drive, cool and crisp but with a little autumn sunshine warming its way through the cool breeze.

Of course, he was driving to the scene of a murder to investigate a case with his partner, which wasn't exactly what one would call a pleasant occasion, but it was still a couple hours away, and it was easy to pretend he was driving just for the hell of it, because life was good and the world was beautiful. They'd wrapped up the last reports on the Gravedigger case a couple days before, and he figured anything they were likely to come up against in their next case would be practically like a vacation after being trapped on a ship and nearly being blown up. Not to mention being heckled by a years-dead ghost. So while driving all morning to go look at a corpse might not have been his first choice of a relaxing activity, he would take it.

He let himself imagine for a moment that he was driving for a more enjoyable purpose… like he had decided to play hooky and go on a picnic. He snuck a glance to his right to where his partner sat next to him. On a picnic with a beautiful woman. The fantasy lasted all of half a second before he reminded himself that the chance of Temperance Brennan driving for three hours to go on a picnic with him in the middle of the week was slim at best. He wondered if Bones had ever played hooky in her life.

Probably not. This was the woman whose idea of a vacation was identifying dead bodies at disaster sites.

He shook his head and tried to refocus on the idea of the picnic, reminding himself that it was hypothetical and didn't need to include Bones at all. For his picnic, all he'd need was an old flannel blanket in the back of the car, and a cooler stuffed with all the makings of a perfect picnic- turkey, cheese, sourdough bread, the spiciest mustard money could buy, a container of homemade cookies…

Well, except Bones wouldn't want the turkey, he amended to himself, pausing in his mental list. He'd have to make sure she had some organic peanut butter and jelly for her sandwich or maybe some tofurkey or something.

It was kind of hard to imagine Bones on a picnic, though. She probably thought driving for three hours to eat outside was pointless and irrational. He frowned. On the other hand, she did seem to have an appreciation for the natural world, so maybe she'd like it. He tried to think if they'd ever discussed such a thing. He couldn't remember it ever coming up in conversation.

"Hey, Bones, do you like picnics?" he heard himself say.

No response. He looked over at her again. She was staring out the window, lost in thought, her brow furrowed with the tiniest wrinkle, her clear seascape eyes fixed on some unseeable point in the distance. She was probably figuring out the cause of death of a thirteen hundred year old skeleton found in an ancient Chinese burial ground in her head or something. He knew that face—it was her 'I'm working out an immensely complex analytical problem right now' face, and it meant that she was so deep in thought that she wouldn't hear him even if he shouted.

He raised his voice. "Bones. Hey, earth to Bones." Hey, just because she probably wouldn't hear him didn't mean he couldn't try.

Her eyes slowly refocused and she turned her head towards him with an air of surprise, as though she wasn't expecting to find him in the car with her. "What?"

"I said, do you like picnics?" he repeated.

She blinked, and considered this for a moment. "In my subjective opinion, the benefits derived from eating a companionable meal in fresh air in a beautiful setting outweigh the negative factors of possible insect infestation and the risk of bad weather, so, yes, I find the prospect of dining al fresco quite enjoyable, generally."

He rolled his eyes. She couldn't just give a straight yes or no answer like a normal person, could she? "This would be a nice place to have a picnic, wouldn't it?" he said, gesturing to their surroundings.

"Mm-hm." She was looking out the window again. He'd lost her already.

"Bones!"

She turned back to him again, still looking faintly surprised. "What?"

"I said, don't you think this would be a nice place to have a picnic?"

"I know. I agreed with you," she said, with that air of 'Booth is behaving like he has the mental capacity of a five year old' that she had sometimes.

He sighed. "Never mind."

She accepted his statement at face value and turned back to the window, the wrinkle in her forehead deepening.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and glanced over at her again. She'd been awfully quiet the last several days. Normally it was difficult to prevent her from offering her opinion on any subject that came up, but she hadn't volunteered any random bits of scientific knowledge unrelated to their current case or boasted of some obscure talent or experience she'd had for days. That wasn't a good sign.

"Bones." This time his voice was quiet.

She turned back to him yet again. "Yes?"

"Is everything okay?"

Her brow knitted in confusion. "Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"I dunno, you just seem quiet."

He half-expected her to start in on him about implying that normally she never shut up, or something, but she just nodded and looked back out the window.

Okay, now he was really alarmed. "Bones, seriously, what's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter," she insisted.

Something horrible occurred him. "Wait, are you upset about what happened… you know, last week?" When you caught the person who tried to bury you alive and blow me to smithereens? he added silently.

"No… not upset, exactly," she said slowly.

"It's okay to be upset, you know."

She looked at him, wide-eyed. "I'm not upset."

"You sure? Because a thing like that, it tends to shake you up, even after it's over. You start thinking about all these things that you were going through at the time, and… it can be confusing."

She was silent for a long moment. "You're right."

He nodded. "Catching someone that truly evil can really freak you out, and—"

"I'm not upset about catching the grave digger," she interrupted him. "I feel satisfaction that we caught her, and extremely relieved that we saved you in time."

"But if you're afraid of her—"

"I'm not afraid of her. She is incarcerated at a high security prison and heavily guarded; her ability to harm people outside that facility is minimal at best, so there's nothing for me to fear, logically speaking."

"Fear isn't always logical, Bones."

"I know. But as I said, I am not afraid of the grave digger. I was agreeing with you that the thoughts that run through one's mind in the aftermath of a traumatic event can be confusing."

He shifted in his seat. "That's good, Bones. It's good that you recognize that. But you know what, we should talk about it. Stuff like this, it's easier to deal with it when you talk about it with another person."

"Really?"

"Yeah. So feel free to tell me what's on your mind. Maybe I can help."

"I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"What? Why not?"

"You might find it uncomfortable."

"Why would I find it uncomfortable?"

"Well, it concerns you."

"It concerns me? Well, now you HAVE to tell me."

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

She paused. "Angela says I love you."

And he nearly swerved off the road.

"Booth, be careful!" Bones said sharply.

He straightened the wheel and took a deep breath. "It's fine. Sorry. I was just… startled."

She frowned. "Perhaps I should drive if you're so easily startled that you're unable to drive properly and carry on a conversation at the same time."

"It's fine, Bones. I just wasn't expecting you to say… that."

"That Angela says I love you?"

"Yes. That."

"Well, naturally, you would have no way of anticipating what another person would say in advance. The range of word combinations in the English language are nearly infinite, so the ability to accurately predict the sentence structure of another person is statistically improbable, but that doesn't seem a valid excuse for nearly driving off the road."

He exhaled. "Why did Angela say that you love me?"

"She was trying to convince me to give the evidence to the Grave Digger."

"And she thought telling you that you love me would do the trick?"

"Apparently so."

Booth tried to wrap his brain around this. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"

"The Grave Digger had told us to drop off the piece of stolen evidence at a park near the river or you would die. We drove there, and just as we were about to drop it off, Hodgins said it was irrational to hand over the evidence because that would minimize the chance of catching the Grave Digger. He thought we should keep it to analyze it."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, Hodgins wanted to keep it? He was just going to let me blow up so he could hang on to a hunk of rusted bumper? I'm going to have to have a word with old Hodgins and his overdeveloped love of particulates."

Brennan frowned at him. "He thought that we would have a better chance of saving you if we kept the evidence and tried to use it to track down the Grave Digger. I thought his argument was compelling."

He looked at her incredulously. "You're saying you actually considered it?"

"Of course. He was right, it was the most rational approach."

"Why didn't you do it, then?"

"Because Angela grabbed my arm and said I was allowed do the irrational thing because someone I loved was buried alive. She was referring to you," she added unnecessarily.

"I got it, Bones."

"Well, what do you think?"

"What do you mean, what do I think?"

"Do you think Angela's right? About me loving you, I mean?"

He kept his eyes on the road and answered very carefully. "It's not important what I think. What's important is what you think."

"But you're better at interpreting the subjective and emotional than I am," she argued. "Therefore, your opinion is more valuable than mine on this issue."

"On a general level, Bones. When it comes to determining motives of murderers. I'm not a mind reader. You're a better judge of your own emotions than I am."

"I disagree. In the past, you have proven yourself to be more perceptive and insightful regarding my emotional reactions than I have. For example, you always seem to understand what I'm feeling regarding difficult moments with my father and brother, or when I'm scared of something."

He sighed deeply. Only with Bones could a person have a conversation like this. "Look Bones, did it ever occur to you that it might be a little awkward to ask me if I think you're in love with me? What am I supposed to say? First of all, anything I say, you're liable to contradict me if you don't like the answer, and secondly, it's really not my place to say. Plus, you'll get mad at me and shut yourself off, and that wouldn't be helpful to either of us. I know Angela pushes you on things like this, but you have to answer that question for yourself." He paused, and risked glancing over at her again. "You know, when you're ready." Gentle hints, that was the best way to deal with this.

She stared at him in surprise. "Angela didn't say I'm in love with you, she just said I loved you."

Yeah, gentle hints never had gone down very well with Brennan. Trust her to blow past his efforts to deal with a volatile situation in a subtle way in order to correct him on semantics. "Whatever, that's what she meant, isn't it?" he said, a little impatiently.

She shook her head slowly. "I don't think so."

"What do you mean, you don't think so? Now you're the expert in the subjective and emotional? Trust me, I know Angela, I know what she meant."

"Your analogy is faulty. Based on your interpretation of Angela's words regarding myself, she also indicated she was in love with you," Brennan said.

"What?" Booth screeched. "No, no, no. Angela is NOT in love with me."

"I agree. But if you apply your reasoning to the whole conversation, your interpretation would lead you to conclude that not only is Angela in love with you, but Hodgins and Sweets are as well," she said reasonably.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Angela told me that I love you. I said I didn't love you, and she insisted that I did. To support her argument, she said that she loved you too, that we all did, including Hodgins and Sweets, who were also present at the time."

An unpleasant jolt went through him at her words. "You told Angela you didn't love me?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?" he said, dumbfounded. "We've been partners for four years! I took a bullet for you. Comforted you when you were upset. Bought you Chinese food a hundred times. I got you a pet pig, for God's sake!"

"It wasn't a real pet pig," she pointed out. "It was plastic."

"I'm just saying, I have always been very supportive of you and done many thoughtful things for you. Things, which I might point out, that most people would consider loveable."

"You seem offended that I told Angela I didn't love you," she said astutely.

"Damn straight I'm offended! Good partners, good friends… they love each other, Bones. At the very least a platonic, partnerly love. And you deny that we have even that." He blew out an angry sigh. "Did you at least hesitate before contradicting her?"

"No."

He gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Fine."

"Now you're angry at me," she observed.

"No, I'm not."

"You're angry that I said I didn't love you?"

He pressed his lips together in a tight line and didn't answer.

"Because when Angela said I did love you, that we all did, I then went to give the Grave Digger the evidence. Logically, based on my actions, I must conclude that I do love you."

"Great," he bit out.

She studied him. "I don't understand. You were angry because I said I didn't love you, and now that I said I do love you, you're still angry."

"I'm angry that it took Angela bullying you for you to admit that!"

"I never said I wasn't fond of you, Booth. That I don't value our friendship."

"Funny, that sounds like exactly what you did."

"No, I didn't. I said I didn't love you. That's not the same thing."

"It pretty much is."

"Well, do you love me?"

He avoided the question. "That's not the point, Bones."

"Why are you so mad then?"

He rubbed his temple with his first two fingers. "This is not how I imagined this conversation going," he mumbled.

"Well, I'm sorry I upset you," Brennan said stiffly. "That wasn't my intention."

He sighed. "Why did you even ask me about this in the first place?"

"I told you, I thought you could give me some insight about what Angela said."

"But if you already decided she was right, why did you need my opinion?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure. It's completely irrational, but what she said has been occupying my mind a lot ever since you got back. I thought you would have some idea why."

Hearing her admit to irrational behavior cheered Booth significantly. He tried to let the last of the annoyance drain out of him with a long exhaled breath. Okay, he was a bit peeved that Bones was so quick to deny she had feelings for him when he'd give his left arm for-

But that didn't matter. Bones was Bones, he couldn't expect her to behave like a normal human being. She hadn't even cried at his funeral, for God's sake—which still rankled a bit, to be honest—but he knew she cared. She just didn't know how to show it. Didn't even know how to acknowledge it to herself, really. A quick glance over at her revealed her uncertainty: her brow displayed the furrow it always did during discussions of emotions she struggled to understand. God, even when she was being infuriating she was so damn… cute.

He checked the thought. Bones would kill him if she ever so much as had an inkling that her name and the word cute were ever connected in his mind. Not for the first time, he was devoutly thankful that her incredible brain powers did not extend to telepathy.

She was still distressed and slightly lost looking. He knew it was because she'd realized she had offended him and she didn't know how to undo the damage that she'd inadvertently caused, no matter how much she wanted to. He sighed, accepting the inevitable.

"You were hoping I could validate Angela's interpretation of your feelings for me," he said, caving in to the need to explain things to her and soothe her agitated mind.

"I was?"

"Yes. Because you trust me and you value my opinion on the 'subjective and emotional,' as you put it."

Bones nodded, looking pensive. "That's true."

"Well, let me put your mind at ease, Bones. You do love me," he pronounced.

She was silent for a moment. "You know, love is really just a series of chemical reactions," she said at last.

Booth rolled his eyes. "No, it's not, and you know what? You have admitted to loving people before, so it's no use trying the whole 'love is a chemical reaction' defense on me, Bones, because I know better."

She bit her lip. "Well, I do love my family, I suppose."

"That's right, you love your father and your brother," he said encouragingly. "You know who else you love? You love Angela. And Zack, and Hodgins, and even Sweets, a little."

"And Cam?" she said tentatively.

Booth paused. He honestly had no idea how his partner felt about his ex-girlfriend. "Sure," he said with false bravado, "because everyone at the lab is like a second family to you, and even though you don't always like Cam, you respect her intelligence and value her role in the team."

He was pretty much talking out of his ass, but to his surprise she nodded slowly. "That… is a reasonably accurate description of my feelings on the matter," she said, sounding faintly surprised.

He nodded, and would have continued, but she cut him off. "And you're part of that family, too," she said. "That's why Angela said I love you."

He avoided her gaze. "Right, Bones."

The rest of the trip passed in relative silence.

Booth hadn't been able to get his mind off their conversation, feeling at turns elated that he'd gotten her to admit she had feelings for him and despondent that she hadn't offered something… more.

Bones, of course, was oblivious. She was still lost in her own little bone world, staring out the window and maybe thinking about a skeletal fragment or maybe thinking about the Grave Digger or maybe thinking about archaic linguistic anomalies in Urdu. Cause you never could tell, with Bones.

When they got to the crime scene they barely said a word to each other, focusing on coordinating with local law enforcement, surveying the scene, and compiling a witness list. Bones dispassionately noted that the victim was a twenty three year old female who died of a crushed spine who was fond of ice skating and had grown up in a place without fluoridated water. As Bones pontificated on the many merits of fluoridation, Booth noticed a couple of local uniforms look away as though they were intruding on something private and he suppressed a sigh. They were looking at him and Bones. They weren't even doing that thing that they often did, unconsciously moving into each other's personal space without realizing it, arguing til their faces were a couple inches away from each other, both exasperated yet their eyes somehow brighter, sparklier, but the local PD had those looks on their faces that Booth had come to recognize. The looks that said, these two have it _bad_ for each other. He'd lost track of the number of people who had mistaken them for a couple over the years—and okay, it was understandable when they did the whole invading the personal space thing- but seriously, Bones was talking about fluoride and they weren't even standing near each other. He wondered idly if Bones had any idea the kind of vibe they radiated out to people who didn't know them, and if she'd even care if these people could sense an emotional connection between the two of them when they weren't even looking at each other.

Fortunately, he was able to dive into the case to distract himself from these thoughts. He pegged the father for it from the beginning, but he held his peace until Bones had gone through the evidence and confirmed his hunch scientifically. She looked at the man with loathing when they confronted him, and Booth felt sick and angry that a man could do something like that to his own daughter. He found himself thinking about Brennan's father and found himself feeling the urge to smack Max in the face, though he hadn't seen him in weeks. He shook his head, trying to focus on the arrest, but couldn't quite get rid of the feeling of badly suppressed rage, however displaced it might be. He didn't know why he was so mad—Bones and her dad had been getting along fine, lately—but the truth was every time Temperance was confronted with more examples of fathers disappointing their daughters, he felt like driving his fist through a wall, and this was no exception.

They spent the night at a hotel. Occasionally Booth hoped that circumstances would conspire to put them in one room together—he was a sick man, that he fantasized about chastely sharing a bed with her over the excuse of an overbooked hotel—but tonight, he was glad to have the space to himself.

But when he lay down he couldn't fall asleep. He stared at the ceiling and willed himself to think of something besides her. Sports. Parker. The paperwork on his desk at the Bureau. His second tour in Iraq, anything.

He had nights like this, occasionally. Nights where he'd find himself thinking about what would happen if he just forgot about protocol, and common sense, and just said screw it, and kissed her.

It would be amazing, of course. If there was one thing he didn't doubt, it was that kissing her, making love to her, would be a mind-blowing experience.

It was the afterwards part that caught him up. The part where she would say she never wanted to get married, never wanted to have kids. The part where she would retreat the minute he tried to get closer. The part where she would blow hot and cold and refuse to let him into her life fully. The part where she would say that while their lovemaking had been quite enjoyable, love was nothing more than a series of chemical reactions, and there was no use making a fuss over it, because they were just responding to each other's pheromones. And he would wonder, sometimes, if it wouldn't be worth it to just throw it all over and kiss her anyway.

But then with a sinking feeling, he would always come to the same conclusion: No, it wasn't. Because there were certain things that were not negotiable for Seeley Booth, and the main one was this- he was not going to start a relationship with someone who refused to acknowledge a future for them. Which was a damn shame, really, because he was pretty sure she was the only one on earth who he'd ever feel this way about in his life.

They left early the next morning. They ate breakfast together in silence, Brennan wordlessly spearing the sausage on her plate and transferring it to his, him saving the last of the boysenberry syrup for her even though it was both their favorites. They took their coffee to go, and blinked into the bright morning sun as they climbed into the car, neither of them completely awake. (They were both night owls).

Booth was in a bad mood. It had taken ages for him to fall asleep the night before, and then the girl's father from the case and Bones and Max had all followed him into his dreams in a confused, anxiety-ridden tangle of his most profound neuroses. He found himself snappish with Brennan, and hated himself for it—it was like kicking a puppy, she had no idea the well of emotions she'd tapped into with her innocent question—but then he'd get annoyed at her all over again. How could someone so brilliant manage to be so obtuse about something right in front of her unless it was a little bit on purpose? It was one of the enigmas he'd been struggling to unravel for the past four years. He knew— _knew_ —she had no idea the effect she had on him. But then sometimes she would look at him in this way that made his heart pound with anticipation, and then look away just when he thought something incredible was about to happen between them. He found he couldn't quite stop himself from hating her a little bit for ruining those moments, for killing his hope so effortlessly. But then her chin would drop and she would look so vulnerable that he found he couldn't hate her at all, not even a little bit, for being so contradictory and constantly difficult and completely mesmerizing. So he ate her sausage and poured syrup on her pancakes and said nothing.

It was another beautiful day. Even warmer than the day before. Booth wasn't in the mood to appreciate God's gift of good weather, though. He scowled and kept his eyes on the road.

"I've decided you're wrong, Booth," Bones announced suddenly after they'd been on the road about forty five minutes.

He groaned inwardly. He might have expected this. She'd been at him all afternoon about it yesterday, and yet today, after the case was solved, everything had worked out, it was all important that she take the time to say 'I told you so.'

"Oh, here we go," Booth grumbled loudly and gracelessly. "Listen, Bones, I know you think the Jeffersonian is the only facility capable of processing evidence, but like I said before, sometimes solving crimes is a political undertaking, and you have to make nice with the local law enforcement and let them have a piece of the pie. And their lab may not have been state of the art, but they were perfectly capable of analyzing the—"

"I'm not talking about that," she interrupted.

He stopped, regrouping. "Oh. Well, if it's about dinner last night, I still think-"

She cut him off. "It's about what you said about love."

He frowned. "I've told you a hundred times, Bones, you can argue all you want, but there's just no way you're going to convince me that love is nothing more than chemical reactions."

"I know that. I'm referring to what you said about me loving you."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"You said that I love you."

His heart started pounding at an unnatural rate. This was what he was wrong about? Her supposed partnerly love for him? She wasn't going to deny loving him to his face, was she? No. He couldn't be wrong about that. He just couldn't. "So did Angela." He hoped his voice didn't sound pleading.

"Yes. I've considered the matter, and I've concluded that you were both mistaken," she said, as though she were telling him someone's femur was crushed by a tractor rather than a midsized vehicle. She probably broke up with all her boyfriends this way. Sorry about being so fascinating and beautiful and incredibly smart you couldn't resist me, but in my scientific opinion, we are not meant to be together. Incidentally, it's physically impossible for hearts to break; they are made of soft tissue.

"Both you and Angela implied that my feelings for you are strictly platonic," she continued, oblivious, and determined, as ever, to carry out her point. "The logic of your arguments assumes I have a platonic regard for you rooted in our professional partnership. And that my regard for you encompasses the love of friendship. At first I was inclined to agree with your assessment, but after considering the matter for some time, I've rejected that hypothesis."

"Oh, really?" Booth said snidely. Her words stung, and he took comfort in the fact that he was mad enough that the hurt was partially eclipsed. If Bones was going to 'Dear John' him as a partner, he wasn't going to let her off the hook politely. "In determining that you do not, in fact, love me as a partner, just what evidence did you consider?"

"Well, first of all, I am sexually attracted to you," she began.

Booth nearly swerved off the road again. "What?" he said, dumbfounded. What kind of a 'Dear John' was that? He shook his head, realizing he'd missed something important in their conversation. Something that meant two plus two equaled a pink bunny rabbit.

"I am sexually attracted to you," she repeated, as though he merely hadn't heard her correctly. "You have a very well-structured physique, and symmetrical features which are pleasing to the eye. You have alpha male tendencies and your frequent inclination to make thoughtful gestures implies to me that you would be a very attentive lover. I have every reason to believe we would be sexually compatible."

So did he, and none of them had to do with symmetry.

"In addition, I admire you and respect you. Despite your lack of scientific training, you have an intelligent mind, and I am impressed with your skills at deductive logic and understanding people. Also, I place a high value on your friendship and loyalty."

O-kaaaay. He was still stuck on the sexually attracted thing. Specifically, he was thinking about mistletoe.

"Furthermore," she continued. "I have a deep and abiding emotional attachment towards you that exceeds the bounds of a professional relationship common for a partnership like ours."

It took a moment for his brain to process that. That didn't sound bad. "What are you saying?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm saying that after objectively examining the evidence, I am forced to conclude that I am in love with you."

He brought the car to a screeching halt in the middle of the deserted highway. He turned to her, his ears ringing, unable to believe what they had heard. "What did you say?" he demanded.

She met his eyes, fearless as ever, her composure only betrayed by two bright spots high on her cheeks. "I said, I believe I'm in love with you. I understand you might not feel the same way, or that you don't think it would be appropriate to explore that attachment because we work together and it could endanger our professional relationship, but I felt compelled to point out the error in your logic."

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned back to the wheel and pulled the car over onto the side of the road. He got out of the car and went around to her side of the car. He yanked open the door. "Get out of the car."

"Why?"

"Just… get out of the car."

She looked at him warily, but then reached over and unbuckled her seatbelt and slid out of the car.

He had her backed up against the side of the car before her feet touched the ground, tilting her chin up and burying his hand in her hair and then plundering her mouth with his because he couldn't wait one second longer to taste her, to taste that beautiful mouth that said love was possible, that said she loved him and told him he was illogical.

"Bones," he breathed into her. "Temperance. I'm crazy about you. I love your mind, your goddamned stubbornness, your passion. I love the fact that you can name every bone in the human body in about twenty-seven different languages. I love how you walk too fast and never accept anything less than the best from yourself or anyone around you. My God, I've wanted you _forever_."

"The concept of forever is a human construct with no real meaning," Bones said breathlessly as he kissed each of her eyelids in turn, but her voice lacked conviction.

He ignored her. "I know the exact moment I fell in love with you. It was on our second case together. I saw you drop kick that airport security guard and I was done for."

"What?" she said, her eyes round with shock. "You've had feelings for me that long?"

The hell with pride. "Yup."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, looking somehow piqued and vulnerable at the same time.

He laughed out loud. "Because you would have kicked my ass."

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. "That's true." She thought for a moment. "Why didn't I ever notice?"

"Because, Dr. Brennan, you may be the top forensic anthropologist in the country, but you are not exactly an expert on the subjective and emotional," he said cheekily.

She laughed, and God, she had the best laugh in the world, rich and throaty.

He took her hand. "Are you mad that I didn't tell you? Since then, I mean?"

She frowned, her brow crinkling. "I don't know," she said, perplexed.

He played with her fingers. "I just thought, you know, if I told you, you'd have a knee-jerk reaction and push me away. I figured it would be better if you came to it on your own."

"That was… very logical of you," she said, looking faintly surprised.

He grinned. "What can I say? I'm a logical guy."

She smiled back, but then her smile faded. "Booth… I'm scared."

He squeezed her hand. "I know."

"I don't know how to do this. You know… be with someone," she said awkwardly. "I've never known."

"Look, you trust me, right?"

"Yes."

"I'll show you how."

"But what will I do?"

"You'll watch my back and tell me when I'm wrong and take care of Parker if something happens to me and steal my potstickers when we have take out and argue with me every single day."

She blinked. "I… I think I can do that."

"I know you can. I have faith in you."

She looked down. "Booth, I don't believe in God."

He rolled his eyes. "Believe me, you've made that abundantly clear over the last few years."

She looked back at him. "But I have faith in you."

He stared at her, stunned, and remembered all over again why he loved her more than his own soul. Because he could be going along, sure he knew everything there was to know about Temperance Brennan, and she could always surprise him.

"Booth?"

He recovered himself, and met her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Are you worried about work? I mean, about us pursuing something romantically while we still work together?"

He shrugged. "A little. But not enough not to give us a shot."

"It could end badly, you know." Ever the logical empiricist, acknowledging all possible outcomes.

He sighed. "Bones. That doesn't matter. Yes, it's possible it could end badly, but the point is when you have something this good, it's cowardly not to try." He watched as she processed this, her world class brain digesting this new idea. He squeezed her hand. "And we're neither of us cowards, are we?"

She looked surprised, then stuck her chin out and shook her head. "No, we're not."

"So we'll talk about it." And talk to Cam and Cullen, and, ugh, Sweets. He was not looking forward to those conversations. But that would come later. "We'll figure something out."

She squeezed his hand back, and surprised him again. "Okay." Then she leaned up on her tiptoes and surprised him again, kissing him, a little shyly, but very sweetly. He drank her in, and remembered her kiss made him lightheaded.

The kiss ended, and they stood there on the side of the highway, clasping hands.

He grinned at her. "I have an idea."

She smiled uncertainly. "What is it?"

"Come with me." He pulled her around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He rooted around for a minute with one hand, unwilling to relinquish his hold on her, until he found what he was looking for. "Got it," he said triumphantly, pulling out his old army issue sleeping bag. It wasn't exactly a flannel blanket, but it would do the trick. "Come on."

He tugged her along and into the woods surrounding them, heading away from the car.

She tripped a little but held on to his hand. "Where are we going?"

"You and I, Bones, are going on a picnic," he said, helping her over a fallen log in their path as they headed deeper into the woods.

"But we don't have any food," she pointed out.

He grinned wickedly. "It's not that kind of picnic."

Later, her pale skin dappled by the sunlight through the trees as she moved above him, he reached up and touched her hair, the auburn shining with golden strands made brilliant by the sunlight. They lay on the sleeping bag, surrounded by a sea of yellow leaves. Bones laughed when he caught one in his hair as he leaned up to taste her once again.

It was the best picnic he'd ever been on.


End file.
